


not in their hearts, but in their eyes

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: At least for a bit, High School Prom, M/M, Soft Boys, Stargazing, also awkward high school flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: Jamie wouldn't even be here, if it wasn't for Jenna's mum asking him to go with her as a favor.His first choice is a golden haired boy with his hand up some girl's skirt.His second choice is the boy who looks like he might punch him, but kisses him instead.(He'll need to thank Mrs. Alderman the next time he sees her.)





	not in their hearts, but in their eyes

Jamie... isn't expecting much, if he's honest. Jenna is a year older than him, and they don't even really like each other—Jamie can definitely remember at least one time when she'd pushed him into a puddle after he'd refused to kiss her. He'd cried, because he was only five. Maybe it's not fair to hold onto that resentment now, but he still instinctively doesn't like her. Her dress is too long to be short and too short to actually be long, and it has far too many frills, and he feels rather like he's escorting an eighty-year old to bingo, not an eighteen year old to the spring formal.  
  
He wouldn't even be taking her if her mother hadn't blabbed to his mother that nobody wanted to bring her. Mrs. Carragher, with a predictably inconvenient helpfulness, had volunteered her son, who she was absolutely sure was free and would be absolutely thrilled to take Jenna to the prom.  
  
Spoiler alert, Jamie was significantly less than thrilled, but the promise of tickets to the Merseyside derby at Anfield was enough to convince him to tell her how beautiful she looked and fake a smile for the pictures Mrs. Alderman insisted on taking. He'd slid the corsage onto her wrist, and slid into the passenger seat—she was of age and had her license. He was still too young to drive legally, though his dad had taught him the basics in an empty car park.  
  
Jenna drives like a maniac, taking it in turns to be recklessly hyper-aggressive and unnecessarily passive. She cusses and apologizes under her breath, and is apparently highly aware of her mistakes, of the muttered torrent of self-abuse is anything to go by. When they finally get to the venue, she parks with little regard for the lines.  
  
Jamie sighs. "Do you want me to get out and direct you?"   
  
"If you don't mind?"  
  
"Not at all. Pull out of the space so I can hop out." She puts the car in reverse, and pulls out of the space, looking anxiously at him.  
  
"Jen, do you want me to park? Just give me a minute behind the wheel, it'll be our little secret, and then we can go in and have a bit of punch, okay?"  
  
She looks at him skeptically. "Do you even know how to drive?"  
  
"Yeah. Been learning the past six months, but it's okay, you go on and do it if you'd feel more comfortable—"   
  
Apparently the mere thought of that is sufficiently awful enough for her to park the car and get out, letting him into the driver's seat. He backs up a bit further and pulls forward into the space, a little slow, but within the lines, at least, and he parks carefully and gets out of the car.   
  
"Thank you for doing that, James, I hate parking."  
  
_What a coincidence, I hate being called James_. Jamie bites his tongue hard enough that the words don't accidentally slip out and offers her his arm to escort her in.  
  
He's proper and attentive and he gets her some punch. It's clearly spiked, and he warns her about it before he hands it to her.   
  
"Better be careful, Jen, I saw some lad spiking this—poured in a load of vodka, so it’ll be strong.”  
  
Jen nods her thanks and takes a careful sip.  
  
Still, maybe he'd get laid out of all this. He’s not really expecting Jenna to put out—she’s already telling everyone in sight that they're just friends, and she is very much not his type anyway.  
  
Jenna gets dragged to the bathroom by a gaggle of giggling girls. They’re up to something, Jamie can see it in their faces. Maybe it’s gossip, maybe it’s plotting, but there’s no way they’re all going just to have a piss.  
  
He’s not too bothered by it, though part of him is a little wary of whatever mad scheme they might be cooking up.   
  
He decides to take a walk to take his mind off it for a little bit, get the lay of the land and see if there’s anyone here he might want to snog senseless in a dark corner somewhere.   
  
He sees a boy who fits the bill perfectly. He’s tall, blonde, with an easy smile and dimples. He’s out on the dance floor already, and Jamie considers it for a long, long moment, weighing up the probability that he’s straight against the way just looking at his smile gives him a strange warm feeling in his stomach.  
  
It’s not his school anyway. He can afford to be reckless. He steps forward, intent on getting an introduction and trying not to get too far ahead of himself by picturing what the boy looks like under his suit. He’s got nice broad shoulders, and he’s slender but strong... at least that’s what Jamie’s guessing. Hopefully he’ll be able to confirm that for himself by the end of the night.  
  
He’s so distracted by Golden Boy that he doesn’t even notice the brown-haired one until he bumps into him and finds himself at the receiving end of a bitter, familiar scowl.  
  
“Watch where you’re going, fuckface,” the boy spits harshly.  
  
“Sorry, sorry—“ Jamie glances up, and Golden Boy has his tongue down some girl’s throat, hand hardly subtle as it slips beneath the hem of her dress. Well, there goes that plan.  
  
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Grumpy asks him. He’s shorter than Jamie, with dark hair and an impeccable but boring black suit.   
  
Jamie scrutinizes his face for a moment, stomach dropping for an entirely different reason than it had when he’d looked at Golden Boy. “You play football,” he states baldly, “you said I probably had to suck off the coach to get on the team, and then I punched you in the face and got sent off. I go to school in Liverpool.”   
  
Grumpy blanches at that, and Jamie probably shouldn’t just stand around and observe how pretty his pale skin is against the dark fabric of the suit. “My name’s Gary Neville, and I’m sorry I said that,” he offers. Jamie introduces himself in turn and they shake hands, and then he takes another look at Golden Boy, and Gary’s eyes follow his, watching Golden Boy’s date giggle as he leads her off the dance floor, probably to some seedy hotel to have awkward, too-brief sex. Jamie doesn’t quite begrudge him that, though he rather wishes it was him Golden Boy was leading away.

 

Gary’s expression, though, goes hard, watching them go, though pain is lingering around the corners of his eyes.

  
He snarls at Jamie again, the momentary friendliness gone. “Guess you didn’t get the fucking message since you’re still talking: stay the fuck away from me.”  
  
Two can play at that game, and Jamie’s still a little bit sore about being sent off and leaving his team in the lurch for the last twenty minutes of the game.

 

“Hey, before you go, I’ve always wondered—what’s it like being beaten five-nil? I haven’t been on the end of a defeat that bad since I played five a side with my dad and his friends when I was ten. Stevie got a hat trick didn’t he? Maybe you should focus more on defending and a little less on trying to chat me up. But what do I know, eh?”  
  
The boy shoves him. It is not sexy at all, despite what Jamie’s lower half seems to think, interest piqued.  
  
“Pretty hard to stay away from you when you’ve got me pinned to a wall.” Jamie’s aiming for nonchalance, but his voice is just slightly breathless, and he’s looking into warm brown eyes that are just below his eye level.   
  
They’re pressed so close together, chests nearly touching, and Jamie swallows, watching those brown eyes flit down to watch his Adam’s apple bob with the motion.   
  
“So? Are you gonna let me up?” He asks, going from a little aroused to more than a little confused.   
  
Gary’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head, leaning in close.  
  
Jamie expects it to be teeth first, then lips—it’s a forgone conclusion at this point that they’re going to kiss, and based on how Gary has shoved him against the wall, he’s guessing it’ll be teeth first.  
  
It isn’t. It’s soft for a heartbeat, and then another.

 

A third.

 

A fourth.

 

Eventually, Jamie loses track, but it goes on for longer than he’d expect for any straight boy having a gay crisis, so that’s a good sign at least.

 

Jamie doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s not this. It’s not being pressed against a wall and being kissed desperately by the boy who’d spoken to him so harshly only a few weeks ago.

 

Gary pulls away, eventually, and they’re both breathing heavily.

 

“You love him.”

 

Gary looks down, giving Jamie an opportunity to look at his perfect mouth, shining with proof of what they’d just done.

 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Jamie asks a moment later. It’s a reprieve, a chance for Gary to avoid having to address what they both know is true.

 

“What about your date?”

 

Jamie flushes and glances around the room for Jenna, flinching when he sees her eyes on him. “Give me a minute, don’t move—“ he mutters to Gary, heading over to her.

 

“That explains why you weren’t ever interested in me,” Jen says with a little smile before he even gets to open his mouth.

 

Jamie shrugs. “I only figured it out recently.”

 

“Like, a minute ago recently?”

 

Jamie laughs. “Not quite that recent. But the past year or so. Didn’t really connect the dots before that, why I hated my mates’ girlfriends, why it hurt when they spent time with other people—“

 

“Well, thanks for bringing me, then. I’ll tell Mrs. Carra you were the perfect gentleman.”

 

“You’ll be okay here on your own?”

 

“Yeah, my friends are all here, and I think we’re heading out soon to an afterparty anyway. Go on, James. But don’t get home too late, or both our mothers will think something happened, and I don’t really want to explain that.”

 

Jamie flinches at the implication. “It’s not that you’re not, uh, pretty,” he says weakly, “but you’re like a sister—“

 

“And you’re like my little brother. Now go. Gary’s a pretty decent lad, you know.”

 

Jamie hadn’t known that, actually. But he’s looking forward to finding out.

 

\---  
  
Jamie’s hand is warm and dry and just slightly larger than his. It’s stronger than his too, Gary notes as he gets tugged out of the gym by a Scouse boy he’d accused of sleeping his way onto the football team a few weeks ago.

 

 _How the tables turn_ , he marvels.

 

Jamie’s shoulders fill out his suit nicely, he notices, and the navy suits him well. He isn’t doing a cheesy corsage, which is probably for the best, since seeing it would probably make Gary jealous of whichever girl put it there.

 

 _That’s not good_ , he notes, _it is way too early to be possessive like that_. He frowns.

 

He stops abruptly and pulls Jamie into another kiss, hard in the light of the moon. He hears Jamie’s gasp with closed eyes and grins when he feels himself shifted back against a conveniently close tree.

 

“This is my one good suit,” he protests half heartedly as Jamie presses against him.

 

“I’ll save up, buy you another one,” Jamie mutters, shifting down to his neck and biting down, soothing the pain with a kiss.

 

“Or you could take me home,” Gary offers. The hair at the back of Jamie’s neck is soft under his fingers, the collar of his shirt starched and stiff.

 

Jamie pulls away eventually, eyes fierce and proud as they look at what he’s done to Gary, how he’s gone from a proper high school student to looking thoroughly debauched, with mussed hair, a loose tie, and a small, notable spot on his neck that is only going to get darker in the morning light.

 

Gary is eighteen years old, and he is a virgin, and he is painfully aware that he may not wake up a virgin in the morning.

 

“I don’t put out on the first date,” Jamie teases, turning around and walking away.

 

Gary might’ve been more upset about that, if it hadn’t been for the long, slender fingers wrapped around his own, pulling him along until his brain and legs both caught up.

 

“Here—my car is over here,” Gary says, trying to take control again. It’s hard, when his back still feels the ghost of the pressure of the tree against it, the spirit of Jamie’s warm weight on his, and his treacherous teenage brain is taking those sense memories and using them to anticipate others.

 

Jamie gets in with no hesitation, and Gary frowns. “You should at least ask where I’m taking you, James, what if I was a gay ax murderer?!”

 

His full name doesn’t sound so bad coming from Gary’s mouth, Jamie decides. “ _Are_ you a gay ax murderer?”

 

“No, but there probably are some out there!”

 

“Right. Okay, Gary Neville, everyone in your class saw me leaving with you, but let me ask you anyway. Are you planning on taking me somewhere to cut me up into very small pieces?”

 

“No, I am not. Thank you for asking.” Gary’s lips quirk upwards just the slightest bit.

 

Jamie bursts out laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

 

Gary flushes. “Look, it’s just better to be safe. I know I’m a good person, but you can’t just get in a car with a stranger, that’s how bad things happen!”

 

“Well, bad things won’t happen now, because I’ve got you to protect me.” Jamie looks over at him with wide eyes and a smile, and Gary feels warm all over.

 

 _It’s too early to be feeling this_ , he reminds himself. _It’s too soon_.

 

There’s a reckless little voice in the back of his head, the one that told him to jump off the swings right as he was highest off the ground, the one that told him to put both feet into the tackle, the one that told him to sass his teachers and piss off boys who were bigger than him. That little voice speaks to him now. _I don’t care if it’s too soon_ , it whispers, awed at the way things have worked out.

 

“I don’t.” he says abruptly. “Love him, that is. I don’t. He’s my best friend, or he was. I always had a thing for him, and sometimes I remember that, but I’m over him. It’s just—do you ever cling to an old crush because the memory of having those feelings is better than looking around and not seeing anyone you’re interested in?”

 

Jamie looks at him, eyes warm, and nods. “Even when you don’t really like them anymore, it’s like you make yourself like them, so you have someone to play the part in your daydreams,” he agrees.

 

Gary’s jaw drops. “You understand,” he murmurs, looking in the rearview mirror to avoid Jamie’s eyes and putting the car into reverse.

 

“I guess I do.” Jamie’s voice is low and thoughtful. When they’re pulling out of the parking lot, Gary glances at him, hands folded primly in his lap.

 

Gary drives for a little while, and it’s quiet in the car, nothing but the sound of the vents bringing the warm air from outside to inside the car.

 

“You are single, right?” Gary asks suddenly, seized by the thought that he might not be, that this won’t ever go anywhere—or worse, that it will, and he’ll be relegated to being the villain of the piece, the other man who seduced someone in a happy relationship, who broke Jamie’s boyfriend’s heart.

 

Jamie barks out a laugh, all sharp edges and harsh corners. “I’m fucking single alright.”

 

There’s a story there, and Gary wants to know it, wants to savor the bitterness and hate this mystery man who’s left Jamie so angry, so lonely, so _hurt_.

 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he offers, but something in his voice gives away his curiosity.

 

“Found him in bed with the captain of the rugby team at a house party.”

 

“ _Fuck_. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—“

 

“It’s okay. We’d sort of drifted apart a while before that. Would’ve been nice if we’d talked it through like adults, if we’d agreed to just walk away from each other instead of staying together because we were cowards. Would’ve been nice of him to leave me before fucking a rugby player, anyway. Wouldn’t have as much of a complex about whether I’m too skinny, or not attractive enough, or whatever.” Jamie shrugs. “He was an asshole anyway, but I just—haven’t really had the time to get back out there, and I only came tonight because Jenna’s mum is friends with mine and asked me to take her as a favor.”

 

Gary doesn’t quite know what to say, other than another apology, and it doesn’t seem right to apologize again, because he knows Jamie will brush it off.

 

“You’re not too skinny, just so you know. And you’re—objectively speaking, you’re pretty handsome.”

 

“I don’t think you can say anyone’s _objectively_ handsome, Neville.”

 

“ _Subjectively_ speaking, then. Anyone with a decent pair of eyes would know that you’re handsome.”

 

“Thanks, Gaz.” He pauses, silence settling between them as Gary drives.  
  
“He’s a fucking idiot.” Jamie says eventually, taking a sidelong glance at him.  
  
“He definitely is. Nobody in their right mind would give you up for a rugby player. They have no necks, have you noticed that? It’s fucking weird.”  
  
Jamie laughs. “I meant Golden Boy. He’s a fucking idiot to not see that you were right there in front of him.”  
  
“I told you, I’m not in love with him anymore—“  
  
“Not anymore,” Jamie agrees. “But you were, before you grew apart.”  
  
Gary can’t find it in himself to deny it, can’t bring himself to lie to this stranger who suddenly knows things about him that nobody else knows.  
  
Jamie nods at the silence and reaches over to press a hand to Gary’s thigh, squeezing just for a moment before he lets go.  
  
“He’s a fucking idiot,” Jamie repeats kindly.

 

Gary nods. “Yeah,” he says, for the first time, “I guess he is, a bit.” It’s the furthest he can go, when they’re still friends, or near enough.

 

Gary pulls up to a park and stops the car. “Do you wanna have a kickabout?” he asks, voice hesitant.

 

“Yeah, why the hell not,” Jamie mutters, “but I can’t make too much of a mess of these clothes, they’re my best, and this is my one formal pair of shoes.” Gary nods and reaches into his football bag, pulling out two sets of boots.

 

Jamie beams. “Wouldn’t happen to have any spare clothes in there, would you?” he asks hopefully.

 

Gary rummages through the bag obligingly, pulling out two clean-ish pairs of shorts and a t-shirt that smells so rank that he wrinkles his nose and actually apologizes to Jamie before stuffing it back into the bag.

 

“This’ll do me just fine,” Jamie says easily, “keep a lookout, yeah? I’m not too keen on getting arrested for public indecency.” He clambers into the backseat, more for the room than for any privacy. Gary’s still a little perplexed by what exactly is going on, but the sharp sound of a zipper being pulled makes him blush and keep his eyes very firmly on his lap, trying not to let them drift to the rearview mirror.

 

He’s not very good about it, though, and Jamie’s thighs are pale and strong, covered sparsely by fine brown hairs that duck abruptly under the tight black fabric of his boxer briefs. Gary swallows past a suddenly dry throat, and rips his eyes away from the mirror as Jamie slips into his shorts.

 

“Are you just going to keep the dress shirt and jacket on, then?” he asks, trying to tease but it doesn’t come out quite right, voice a little too breathless to be convincing.

 

“Undershirt, mate,” Jamie says easily, carefully folding up his pants and slipping off his shoes. He sheds his blazer next and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt, too, wrinkled at the bottom where it was tucked into his pants.

 

Gary shoves down the flicker of disappointment that rises when he realizes that he won’t be seeing Jamie’s bare chest tonight, and belatedly casts a glance around them to make sure that nobody else is around. Even he doesn’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to be caught or if it’s something quieter and more insidious, a secret desire not to let anyone else see Jamie when he’s this vulnerable.

 

“Right,” Jamie says cheerily, hopping back into the passenger seat, “now you, mate, I’ll just get me boots on, and we’ll have a kickabout. No hard challenges, though, if I go to a dance and show up with an injury, my teammates will take the piss.”

 

Jamie glances around quickly, but other than that, he doesn’t make any pretenses of not watching. His eyes are on the rearview the whole time, shameless as he watches Gary undress.

 

Gary half-considers telling him not to look, but something in Jamie’s eyes stops him. It’s _exciting_ , to be watched like this, to see desire in another boy’s eyes and know that he was the one who put it there. It’s been years of not being wanted, years of thinking that maybe he’s broken, or ugly, or just _wrong_ , somehow… But he can’t be. No one can, not if Jamie looks at them with those eyes.

 

Gary’s grateful for the darkness and hopes it hides his flush as Jamie hands back the pair of boots to him so he can put them on.

 

“You’ve got a ball, right?”

 

“I’ve got two, actually. Wanna see?” Gary jokes. Jamie bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling as he watches Gary pull a football out of his bag. He smiles, a fierce, joyous thing that Gary wants to take a picture of and save.

 

“As far as I’m concerned, Neville, you owe me for what you said a few weeks ago,” Jamie says playfully, jumping out of the car and walking close to him. He pulls him in for a quick, sudden kiss, and Gary isn’t even mad when he walks away with the football in his arms, almost bouncing. “So I get to kick off!”

 

They play for a long while. It’s one on one for a few minutes, then it’s showboating with tricks, then it’s trying to arc the ball around some branches they set up as cones and into the top corner.

 

They work up a sweat in the muggy summer air, a heavy omen of rain to come in the next few days.

 

Jamie chuckles as Gary misses the last shot and has to run to retrieve the ball.

 

When he gets back, Jamie’s laying on the grass, eyes gazing up at the stars. Gary doesn’t say anything, just lays down next to him, feeling the warmth of him where their shoulders and arms press against each other.

 

“Do you know any of the constellations?” Jamie asks, voice suddenly close enough that Gary can feel his breath near his ear and shivers at the sensation.

 

“Just a couple,” Gary admits, “big dipper, little dipper, that’s pretty much it. My dad says that if there’s a star that you see but it doesn’t twinkle, it’s a planet.”

 

Jamie lets out a little hum. Gary doesn’t know when their fingers became intertwined, but he’s not upset about it. “I think my favorites are the ones you can only see from the corner of your eye. I love those ones, you kind of have to believe they’re there, because when you go to check, you can’t see them anymore.”

 

Gary’s almost holding his breath, thinking about making a move but caught up in his own uncertainty like a spider trapped in its own web. But Jamie’s tall and kind and talking about the stars you have to believe in, and Gary really wants to shift over and put his head on Jamie’s shoulder.

 

So he does. He shifts a little, and when Jamie’s grip on his fingers loosens, to let him go, Gary’s tightens, to let him know he doesn’t want that. He very carefully edges up, so his head is on Jamie’s shoulder.

 

Jamie does pull his hand away, then, but before Gary can even properly miss it, he’s sliding his arm under Gary’s neck and around his shoulders.

 

Gary thinks he might be happy to spend the rest of his life like this, with his bare legs on the cool grass, breathing warm air, pressed against someone he likes more than is good for him.

 

They’re quiet for a moment, and Gary turns to look at him. He looks different from this angle, softer, his face a little younger. His eyes linger on the stars for a moment longer, and then they look down at him, and he leans down and presses a kiss to Gary’s hair, damp with sweat and hair product and dew from the grass.

 

Gary flushes, pleased, but not quite satisfied. He won’t be, not until—he props himself up on an elbow and leans down, pressing his mouth to Jamie’s for the fourth time that night.

 

“Do you know any?” he asks as they pull apart, instantly regretting having asked. It’s not that he doesn’t want to know, but ideally, he wouldn’t be interrupting their kiss to ask about it. His cheeks heat with regret, but Jamie doesn’t seem to notice, and the other hand—the one that isn’t resting on Gary’s shoulders, comes across to lay on his jaw, almost tender as he pulls him back in.

 

“I’ll teach you all of them next time,” he promises, voice gentle and eyes reckless as he looks at Gary.

 

They lie there for a long while, in Gary’s twice-sweaty gym clothes and their undershirts, kissing under the stars until Jamie’s phone rings shrilly, shattering the peace of the park at night.

 

“Hello? Oh mum, I’m so sorry, I met someone, we got a bit caught up—I’ll tell you about him later, not now. I know, I’m sorry, I should have called—“ Jamie smiles as his mother says something, and looks down at Gary fondly. “He is,” he says quietly, “ _really_ handsome, mum. Might have to thank Mrs. Alderman for asking me to come out with Jenna tonight.”

 

Gary flushes and leans up to press a kiss to Jamie’s neck, enjoying the gentle hitch in his breath.

 

“Yeah, mum, I’ll head home soon, Jen’s at an afterparty, though, so I don’t know how—no, I’m not going to ask you to drive half an hour to come pick me up at this time of night, you’ve got the boys at home, you can’t just leave them—“

 

“I’ll drive you home,” Gary offers, “I don’t mind.”

 

“Gary says he can drive me, mum. No, don’t worry, he’s stone-cold sober, and so am I. Yeah, love you too, I’ll see you in a bit. Mum, _no_ you can’t meet him, I’ve only just met him myself!” Jamie’s flushing and when Gary looks up at him, he rolls his eyes.

 

“I’ll meet her,” Gary says with a shrug, “I don’t mind.”

 

“Okay, he says he’ll come in for a little chat, but not too long, he’s got to get back home too, and I don’t want him drifting off while he’s driving back.”

 

Gary feels warmth in his chest at the concern. It’s not that Jamie’s afraid his mother will embarrass him, it’s that he’s afraid Gary won’t get home safe.

 

Jamie says his goodbyes to his mother, and sighs. “Classic mum, ruining the moment,” he mutters.

 

Gary sits up reluctantly, gratified when Jamie follows him and wraps an arm around him again. “The moment doesn’t have to be ruined,” he says softly, shifting to face Jamie and leaning in again.

 

Jamie meets him halfway, just as he knew he would, and they sit there on the grass, kissing hungrily, desperately, like the teenagers they are, and Gary’s practically in Jamie’s lap by the time they pull apart.

 

“I want to take you out to dinner,” Jamie says breathlessly, mouth pressing against Gary’s neck, right where he’d impulsively left that mark as they left the dance.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“I also kind of want to take you to a hotel and hear you call my name, beg for me,” Jamie confesses, and the words send an electric jolt through Gary, a pleasant swooping feeling in his gut and further south.

 

“Or you could take me home,” Gary offers, “right now, even. My parents are at a conference in Berlin, they’ll be gone for a few more days.”

 

Jamie groans. “You’re killing me,” he says, shaking his head. Gary can feel the motion, Jamie’s chin coming to settle on his shoulder.

 

“You’re _unreal_ ,” he whispers, running his hands through Jamie’s hair and marveling at the softness of it.

 

“And _you_ ,” Jamie says, smile pressed just below Gary’s ear, “are going to make me miss my curfew, but being grounded is going to be _so_ worth it.”

 

Gary pulls away. “No,” he decides finally, “I’m driving you home, and then I’m going home and taking a very cold shower, and then tomorrow you’re taking me out to dinner and I’m going to bring you back to mine and we are going to stay in all night, doing whatever we want to do.”

 

Jamie hums a little, and Gary’s gratified to feel something poking at his abdomen that suggests that he’s not the only one who’s being affected by this.

 

Jamie leans in and whispers something filthy into Gary’s ear, and he swallows hard. “Okay, we are going to end up having sex in a public park if you don’t stop talking like that,” he says hoarsely.

 

Jamie grins. “Oh, that would make mum _hate_ you.”

 

The mention of Jamie’s mother causes his fledgling erection to flag and Gary’s torn between being grateful and annoyed. “New rule: don’t talk about your mother when we’re flirting, James, it’s a total boner-killer.”

 

Jamie laughs brightly and pulls him into another kiss. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says contritely, “forgive me?”

 

Gary rolls his eyes, ignoring how his heart jumps at the endearment. “Fine, but you’re buying me ice cream tomorrow to make up for it.”

 

Jamie grins at him, and when Jamie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, they both know why and reluctantly stand up.

 

“Let’s come back here tomorrow.” Jamie’s voice is almost reverent as he looks up one last time, “I’ll teach you all the constellations I know, tell you the stories behind them. We can even make up our own. And then I’ll kiss you until you take me to bed.”

 

Gary can picture it all in his head. Laying down with Jamie in the grass, holding each other and gazing up at the sky, speaking in low, soft voices, sharing stories that they haven’t shared with anybody else.

 

He pushes aside the worry that it’s all too fast. He’s going to uni in a few months, and Jamie’s still got one year of school left, and even if it’s just a whirlwind summer romance, he doesn’t think he’ll regret it, not if it means he gets to be _cherished_ like this.

 

“Your mum is going to think I got you naked when she sees you in my clothes,” he says with a grin as he rises to his feet and helps Jamie up.

 

“Well, you kind of did, Gaz. I saw you looking, mate. Liked what you saw?”

 

Gary flushes. “Yeah, I did. Hoping to see more next time, though. Besides, it’s not like you were any better, you were staring right into the mirror and watching me change!”

 

Jamie grins proudly. “Yeah, I was. Why wouldn’t I wanna watch a hot guy changing after he’d already kissed me?! Thought I’d get a sneak peek of what I’d see in bed later. I would’ve turned away if you told me to, though.”

 

“I liked it.” Gary’s voice is quiet and honest. “Made me feel… I dunno, like you liked how I looked. It’s a good feeling.”

 

Jamie slips his hand into Gary’s. “You know you’re handsome, right, Gaz? Has someone told you that before? You’re really, really pretty. Just, I don’t know if you know that, and you should.”

 

“Nobody’s said that to me before. Nobody who mattered,” Gary confesses, “I haven’t exactly had much success with lads, and I’m not interested in girls.”

 

Jamie nods, something in his expression making him look older, almost fatigued. “I’m not just saying that. You really are incredibly handsome,” he says again, “and you deserve to have someone tell you that until you believe it.”

 

Gary can feel himself flushing at the praise, at the sincere way Jamie says the words, as if it’s just a fact. He wants to say thank you, but his tongue is all caught up and the words won’t sound right, he just knows they won’t. So he turns and kisses Jamie again, soft, lingering, and Jamie’s hands are warm on his waist.

 

“Come on, let me drive you home,” he says, unable to express his gratitude.

 

Jamie agrees, eyes bright in the light of the moon.

 

They walk back to the car holding hands. Jamie offers Gary back his clothes, offers to change back before they go. Gary shakes his head.

 

“They look better on you anyway. You can give them back to me when you pick me up for our date.”

 

Jamie smiles, and it’s a promise that Gary knows he’ll keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the quote: "Young men's love shows not in their hearts, but in their eyes." From Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare


End file.
